


Yuri!!! In Russia

by evaricious



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Confident Victor, Fluff, Lemon, M/M, Masturbation, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Russia AU, Slow Burn, Tsundere Yurio, lemon-flavoured fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-01
Updated: 2016-12-07
Packaged: 2018-09-03 13:00:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 15,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8714890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/evaricious/pseuds/evaricious
Summary: What if, instead of Victor flying to Japan to coach Yuuri, he invited Yuuri to Russia to train with him? AU where Victor see’s Yuuri skating Stay Close To Me and sees a challenge in Yuuri. He decides to bring Yuuri to Russia to train alongside him and compete against him in the Grand Prix.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I absolutely love Yuri!!!OnIce. I have talked of little else for weeks, tried to convert people to its awesomeness and wake up super early every Thursday just to watch it as soon as its out (Hello from Australia, friends ^_^) I am in love with how healthy Victor and Yuuri’s relationship is. They are pure and everything good in this world. That being said, I am a sucker for drama. I love writing them in situations that the show will never include because my brain can’t just be happy for them, it has to imagine them with every last Romance Trope that plagues anime. So I present to you an AU with both fluff and explicit lemony goodness. A slow burn with a bang. The product of a mind deranged by waiting 7 days before its next hit. (Which is nearly over omg only 3 more episodes how do I live without YOI??)

Chapter One: From Japan To Russia, with Love

 

“Yuuri! It’s not good to stay cooped up like this. Come and help shovel the snow!” Yuuri woke to the voice of his mother and he sat up, his blankets falling away and pooling around him as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes.

“Snow?” He mumbled sleepily, pulling the curtains back and blinking into the bright morning light.

He gazed out at the world-turned-white. A blanket of snow had fallen during the night, sparkling in the sunshine and weighing down the boughs of the cherry tree in full bloom.

This was unusual weather. It was April for crying out loud, why was it snowing? He fumbled for his phone to check the weather report, frowning at the blank screen as he remembered why he had switched it off in the first place. As it flared back to life, a dozen notifications popped up. Ever since the video of his skating Victor Nikiforov’s _Stay Close To Me_ had gone viral, he had been bombarded online with both praise and hate. He quickly closed off the notifications, trying to ignore the comments his eye fell on. An email message in English caught his eye and he opened it, curious as to who it could be from. The top message simply read “See you in Russia”. The forwarded message below was all in Russian, but the attachment had enough English for Yuuri to immediately discern it was a plane ticket. To St. Petersburg.

His eyes scanned the ticket; the flight was in two days, and it covered the entire journey from Hasetsu to St Petersburg. He clicked back to the message. There was no greeting, no signature. Just “See you in Russia”. Who had sent it? He had been fighting butterflies since realising the email was a plane ticket, but he thought he was going to faint when he saw the email address of the sender.

V-Nikiforov@NetRussia.com

It couldn’t be.

But given present circumstances, who else could it be?

Yuuri sat staring at his phone, dumbfounded. It looked like Victor Nikiforov expected him to travel to Russia in two days’ time. Why? If he wanted to tell him what he thought about the video, surely he could do that online. The realisation hit him and he felt a new wave of nervous tension sweep over him. With shaking hands, he hit “reply” and began to type in English.

Hello,

I have received your message. I’m confused as to why you want me to go to Russia? Waiting for an explanation,

Yuuri

 

He stared at the words, not happy with the message but unable to think of anything else to say. Was the ticket even real? He should check if the flights existed. But even as all of these thoughts collided, he didn’t really want to check. Proof of this being an elaborate prank would break him. He took a deep breath, hit send, and threw his phone across the bed.

He stared at the door, half expecting his mother to return and demand he get his butt in gear. He was startled by his phone buzzing, and as he reached for it he could see he had a reply already.

Hi!

I heard you don’t have a coach anymore so I thought you would be looking for a new one. You won’t win the Grand Prix unless you train! You’ll love the rink here.  Let’s get ready for this season together!

xoxo Victor

This couldn’t be real. Yuuri clicked the power button, sending his phone to sleep. Putting the phone down again, he got up and started to get dressed, deciding that he would go and shovel the snow and think before trying to word a reply.

Outside it was bitterly cold, and Yuuri leant against the shovel as he surveyed the snow-covered yard. He wondered what St Petersburg was like. Was it as cold as Hasetsu? Colder? He looked back at the house guiltily. He had only just returned after a five year absence, and even if it was a joke, he couldn’t deny that he desperately wanted to train in Russia with Victor.

Finishing up with the front path, Yuuri gratefully returned to the warmth of the house. He waved off an offer of breakfast, not catching the look of worry that flitted over his mother’s face as he returned to his room.

His phone was lying where he’d left it, and as he approached it buzzed to life again. Picking it up, he could see he’d received three emails in the last 30 minutes, all from Victor.

Yuuri,

It’s a long flight so don’t forget to pack a book or something. I’ll pick you up at the airport so don’t worry about a thing. See you soon!

xoxo Victor

 

Yuuri,

Don’t forget to bring your workout gear! Yakov can be a real drill sergeant but I’m sure you’ll enjoy it here!

xoxo Victor

 

Yuuri,

How come you’re not replying? Are you busy packing?

xoxo Victor

Yuuri quickly read the short emails and hit reply on the latest one, trying to gather his thoughts. This kind of thing didn’t happen to him. It was clearly too good to be true. Deciding that he should just get it over with quickly, he typed and hit send before he could chicken out.

 

If this is a joke I’m not laughing. I’m sorry about the video, it wasn’t my choice to upload it. I just want to be left alone. 

 

Yuuri held the phone loosely in his hand, letting his gaze travel around his room. The walls were still covered in old posters of Victor. Across the room was the last one he had put up before leaving for Detroit. Victor was dressed casually for training, his jacket tied around his waist and leaning against the rink wall. Yuuri knew that the photo was from Victor’s home rink in St Petersburg. He had never given it much thought, but now he studied the background of the poster, taking in the large windows in the background, the brightly lit arena. His phone buzzed in his hand and he swiped open the new email.

The screen paused to load an image, and then Yuuri was staring at the face of Victor Nikiforov. He was pulling a sad face, but there was amusement sparkling in his eyes. Yuuri could see he was dressed in light grey, and appeared to be reclining on a sofa. The message below read:

Yuuri,

This is not a joke. I truly wish for you to train in Russia for this season. Please accept my invitation.

Victor

 

No “xoxo” this time. Coupled with the frowny-face, Yuuri was immediately worried that he had offended his idol. Typing as quickly as he could, he apologised.

Victor,

I’m sorry if I upset you, I’ve received a lot of hate over the video and I assumed this was a prank. Thank you for the invitation. I will have to talk to my family. Can I give you an answer tomorrow?

Yuuri

He hit send, but his heart was in his throat. This was genuine. It wasn’t a joke. It was really Victor and he really wanted him to train in Russia. Yuuri was going to compete against Victor in the Grand Prix. Victor’s reply came a moment later.

Yuuri,

You’re going to win the Grand Prix this year.

xoxo Victor

P.S. check SNS

Yuuri felt dazed as he gaped at the reply. He was starting to get the impression that Victor wasn’t used to being told “no”. Opening the app, Yuuri waited for his feed to update. Images popped up one after another and the screen finally settled on Victor’s official account, which of course Yuuri followed. It was a selfie, and showed Victor in the same position and outfit as the photo he had emailed Yuuri, but this time he was smiling as he winked at the camera. Yuuri’s eyes dropped to the caption:

“I’ve got a big surprise planned for this season”

He gripped his phone tightly, adjusted his glasses and stood up. He’d better go and break the news to his family that he wasn’t staying long after all.

-

Victor wasn’t kidding when he said the flight was a long one. Yuuri had travelled all over for competitions before, but the connecting flights between Hasetsu, Fukuoka, god-knows-where-else and finally St Petersburg took more than 18 hours. He had slept during most of the flights but he was still exhausted by the time he approached the immigration counter.

Victor had been overjoyed when Yuuri quickly replied he would be boarding the flight for Russia. He had immediately sent him copies of forms stating that he would be sponsoring his stay in Russia, and Yuuri noticed that the forms (thankfully bilingual in Russian and English) stated a home address for him in St Petersburg. He had been worried about where he would be living, but Victor appeared to have taken care of everything. He had tried to bring up by email the matter of cost, but Victor brushed aside his queries, asking Yuuri instead what Yuuri thought were silly questions like: What was his favourite food? Was he a morning person or a night owl? Did he snore?

Yuuri gave the clerk a hesitant smile as they stamped his passport and handed him back the sheaf of paperwork that gave him permission to live in Russia for the next 12 months.

Stuffing everything back into his bag, Yuuri looked around for the signs that would point him towards the baggage claim area. As he stepped through the gates into the Arrivals hall, he caught sight of an unmistakable silver head amongst the crowd.

“Yuuri!” the melodious way Victor called his name made Yuuri feel weak in the knees, and he waved at the Russian as he moved towards him. To his surprise, Victor crossed the distance in long strides, catching Yuuri in a hug and swooping down to peck a kiss on his cheek.

“Welcome to St Petersburg! How was your flight?”

Yuuri’s heart was racing as he stammered a reply, blinking up at Victor in a daze. Victor had thrown an arm around his shoulders like they were old friends and was manoeuvring them towards the carousel.

“I’m so excited you’re here, Yuuri,” Victor was saying, and Yuuri felt too overwhelmed to trust himself to speak. Instead he focused on the carousel, straining for a glimpse of a familiar bag. 

“We’ll go straight to the rink so you can meet everybody!” Victor had continued, and Yuuri was very conscious not only of the attention Victor was attracting, but also of the way Victor’s arm still held him firmly to the taller skater.

“O-ok.” He managed to stammer a response. His heart was hammering in his chest so loud he was sure the people passing by could hear it. Maybe that’s why they were staring. He sighed in relief when he spotted his suitcase, as it gave him an opportunity to move away from Victor for a moment.

He lifted the heavy bag down and turned back to Victor, who in the space of sixty seconds had been mobbed by a small group begging for autographs.

Victor smiled and indulged his fans, signing the fans airline ticket stubs and shaking their hands. Yuuri moved closer only when the group had moved on.

Before he could say anything, Victor took the suitcase from him and directed them towards the exit.

A sleek black sedan was waiting outside the double doors, and the driver sprang from the front seat at the sight of Victor. The luggage was quickly stowed in the boot and soon Victor and Yuuri were seated in the back seat and on their way to the rink.

In the silence, Yuuri struggled to say something. There was so much he wanted to say, but he was having trouble finding the right way to say it. He decided in the end that he’d better start with thank you.

 

“Uh, Victor,” he began hesitantly, and faltered again when Victor turned his charming smile on him full force.

“Thank you for bringing me here. I mean, for the plane, and picking me up.” Yuuri blushed as he heard his awkward words, but Victor smiled kindly at him.

“Thank you for accepting.” He replied, and winked at him.

“I hadn’t considered you might think it was a joke. I’m glad you’re here.” Yuuri didn’t know what to make of the look Victor was giving him. It made him feel nervous and excited at the same time.

Victor peppered him with more questions as they drove, although to Yuuri’s relief they were more along the lines of what he would expect from a rinkmate. Things like what jumps he could do, did he choreograph his own routines etc. It seemed that Victor had dug up the videos from his last season and he was giving him a thorough critique on where he’d gone wrong. Yuuri nodded mutely, agreeing with him but feeling rather despondent all the same.

Almost an hour later they were finally at the rink. Victor told Yuuri that they wouldn’t be training today (“You must be exhausted after that long flight”), but they would go in and meet everybody and show Yuuri the facility.

“So you can leave your things here in the car! Just bring yourself.”

Yuuri waited by the car, fiddling with his phone as Victor gave instructions to the driver, along with a set of keys.

It suddenly hit Yuuri that he was really here. He had never made snap decisions before, always deliberating over choices as simple as what to have for dinner, and here he was in Russia less than 72 hours after deciding to accept Victor’s offer. The familiar feeling of anxiety settled in his chest as Victor lead him in to the huge, gleaming white building.

The introductions were a blur. He recognised faces from last year’s disastrous Grand Prix, the most intimidating of which was the young Russian Yuri, a surly blond who glared daggers at him until the coach Yakov shouted at him to concentrate.

To Yuuri’s relief, almost everyone else was if not friendly, than at least not openly hostile. Most were curious about him, which strangely made Yuuri feel a little less nervous. If Victor’s motives weren’t widely known, than at least Yuuri wasn’t the only one who was in the dark.

Victor left him in the company of a younger skater named Mila while he discussed something with Yakov. Mila was 18 and had been on the international circuit for long enough to speak confident English, even if her accent occasionally was hard to follow.

They fell silent watching Victor and Yakov’s discussion. Yakov wasn’t shouting but his words were loud and rapid, and his face was turning red. Victor though was looking calm and collected, gesturing in a _what-can-you-do_ kind of a way and laughing. Mila frowned momentarily, but shook it off when Yuuri tried to question her.

Victor returned soon after, announcing that he would give Yuuri a tour and dragging Yuuri away from the rink. The tour took almost an hour, and by the end of it Yuuri was in awe. This was worlds away from his tiny home rink Ice Castle Hasetsu.

This place was a complete training facility. Besides the world-class rink, there were fully equipped green rooms for national competitions. Victor showed him the locker and shower rooms, there was also an indoor gym, a sauna, and even

“A hot tub!” Victor gestured to the raised hot tub, currently silent and empty. “There is nothing more relaxing after a long day of training than soaking in the hot tub.”

Yuuri, feeling more at ease now it was just him and Victor again, told him about Yu-topia and the natural hot springs at his home. He enjoyed watching the emotions flitting over his face as Victor lamented missing the opportunity to soak in a natural hot spring.

“I almost came to get you too!” He cried, and Yuuri smiled fondly, telling him that he was welcome anytime to visit.

Victor enthusiastically accepted the invitation, and assured him that one day he would definitely be visiting.

“But we’ve got a long year ahead of us, Yuuri. Lets go get you settled in to your new home!” Victor retrieved a set of keys from the reception area of the rink, and Yuuri followed Victor down to the garage. The sleek black sedan that had dropped them off was parked in the shadows. Victor unlocked it with the press of a button and urged Yuuri to take a seat. Victor climbed into the driver’s side and the engine roared to life. Smoothly reversing, Victor drove them out into the bright light of the afternoon, pausing at the turnoff to lean across Yuuri for a moment. He retrieved a pair of sunglasses from the glove box, flicking them open and sliding them on one handed. Yuuri stared at him like he was a rock star.

Grinning like a fool, Victor drove confidently and they were soon speeding down the highway. Yuuri watched the buildings and signs as they sped past. The strange Cyrillic script was incomprehensible to him, and he felt very far from home.

After only 10 minutes they took a highway exit that swung them back around and soon they were cruising down a quiet road. The neighbourhood looked less CBD, more residential. Soon, Victor slowed down and they swung into a narrow driveway. Victor lowered his window to wave a card at a control box and the tall gate cranked slowly open. Watching in awe, they drove down into another underground car park.

Victor parked and slid the sunglasses from his face, returning them to the glove box and winking at Yuuri.

“Come on, let’s get you settled in!”

Feeling nervous again, Yuuri slowly took off his seatbelt and let the strap slide through his fingers as it retracted. He was so slow, Victor had walked around the car and opened his door for him.

“Come on, Yuuri, you’ll love it, I promise.”

Taking a deep breath, offered Victor a smile before climbing out of the low car.

Crossing to an elevator, Victor again waved a card at the panel, and selected the floor. They rode an elevator up to the 22nd floor, Yuuri noted it was the top floor of the building, and the doors opened silently onto what looked like a living room. There were two long sofas, low tables with lamps and a few books and a floor to ceiling window.  Yuuri gasped softly as he approached the window; the view of the city was spectacular. Beyond the buildings he could even see the grey ocean blending with the sky.

Victor came up to stand behind him and Yuuri breathed in as his scent enveloped him. The last few days had been surreal. The flight over had been long and tiring and his afternoon had been a blur of introductions and surprises. Meeting the man he had admired and looked up to for so long was always going to be a whirlwind of emotion for Yuuri, but today he had surprised himself. Ever since he had been greeted by Victor at the airport, instead of being excited about training with Victor and taking his skills to the next level, all he could think about was how good Victor smelled, and how incredibly turned on it made him feel.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Victor voice was low as he spoke directly into Yuuri’s ear. Yuuri agreed absently, his eyes screwed shut as he fought to get his racing heart under control.

Victor chuckled, and announced that he would show Yuuri to his apartment. Yuuri opened his eyes and quickly noticed two things. One, his face was flushed with a blush that glowed across his cheeks. And two, he knew this because he could see his reflection in the glass. No wonder Victor was amused. He spun around, expecting Victor to call him out, but he was merely waiting a few steps away for Yuuri to join him.

The lounge area was almost like a wide hallway, the elevator in the middle opening out to two doors on either side of the hall.  

Victor lead Yuuri to one of them, handed him a card and gestured at the smooth silver panel set by the door.

Raising the card to the panel, a soft light briefly illuminated the edges of the panel and a click indicated that the door was unlocked. Victor smiled and pushed the door open for him, waiting for Yuuri to enter first.

Taking a few hesitant steps in Yuuri watched as the lights came to life, illuminating a modern and spacious apartment. It was open plan and tastefully decorated. He could see a small kitchen with a breakfast bar, a sleek wall mounted TV and double doors that he assumed lead to the bedroom.

He turned around to face Victor to protest.

“I can’t stay here Victor, this place must cost a fortune!” He waved his hands as he tried to put into words that he was grateful but it was too much. Victor waved away his words with one elegant hand.

“Nonsense, Yuuri. It’s not costing a thing. This side was empty after all.”

Yuuri gaped at him, unable to process his statement.

“Make yourself at home. If you need anything I’m just across the hall. If you want to freshen up please do. I’d like to invite you over for dinner. From my side you can see the palace. It’s quite spectacular at night.”

Victor departed, softly closing the door behind him and leaving Yuuri standing in the middle of his half of a penthouse, feeling incredibly overwhelmed.

The sun was setting and it made the city glow like gold. Yuuri stood at his window, taking in the magnificent views. He had quickly explored the apartment. Large picture windows framed the outside walls, the kitchen was stocked with a few staples although the refrigerator had that unmistakeable brand-new smell. The bedroom he saved for last. The room was huge, taking up almost a third of the floor space, although the ensuite meant that wasn’t entirely bedroom per se. The ensuite alone was magnificent. A deep corner tub with a long window for gazing out at the city lights dominated one corner. The fixtures were gold and gleamed in the soft lighting. A walk-in wardrobe completed the modern look, and Yurri continued to explore the bedroom itself.

His suitcase and bag had been left just inside the door. Centred in the room was the large kingsize bed; he lay across the comforter at the foot of the bed and wiggled to test the springs. Very comfortable. Rolling off the bed he prowled around to the bedside table. Opening each small drawer, he noted they were all empty. Sitting back on the mattress Yuuri let his gaze wander the length of the room again, and he noticed in the shadows another door. On the opposite wall to the ensuite, a door blended into the wall. Yuuri approached it, feeling the seam of the door and a slight puff of air through the crack. There was no handle.

To the left of the door was another smooth panel, much like the one Yuuri had used to unlock the front door. Fumbling for the keychain Victor had given him, he raised his card to the panel.

Nothing happened.  

Letting out the breath he had been holding, he tucked the card back into his pocket and began to unpack his clothes. He made a mental note to ask Victor about the unlockable door later.

-

About an hour later Yuuri had showered and changed. He felt much more like himself, even if he was still reeling from the shock of his new situation.

He closed the door to his apartment carefully behind him, lightly touching the card now in his jacket pocket as he did so to check it was still there. He crossed to the door on the other side of the hall, reaching up to tentatively knock. There was a scratching at the door, and he took a step backwards as the door swung open.

He was immediately bowled over by a large, brown ball of fluff. Yuuri was flat on his back with two giant paws on his chest and a wet nose snuffling at his face. He laughed and patted the dog who looked so much like his own poodle Vicchan. Overhead, Victor was laughing and apologising, pulling Makkachin off him and introducing them cheerfully. Yuuri straightened his glasses, sitting up on his elbows and taking in the sight before him. Victor was wearing a ridiculous apron and a huge grin, holding Makkachin back and speaking to them both in a mix of English and Russian. Gesturing him inside, Yuuri could smell the rich savoury smell of soy sauce wafting from the kitchen as he climbed to his feet.

Victor returned to the kitchen, and Yuuri followed more slowly, hindered by Makkachin trying to sniff every inch of him. He stopped to pat her, scratching her behind the ears and laughing as she collapsed to the floor to beg for more pats. Looking around, he could see that Victor’s apartment was basically a mirror image of his side. He took a seat at the bar at Victor’s insistence as he took in the chaos happening in the kitchen, with Makkachin following close behind and sitting by him, waiting patiently for more attention or possible food scraps.

Victor kept up a stream of conversation as he flitted about the small kitchen. There was an electric deep fryer bubbling away on the counter and next to it a rice cooker emitting puffs of steam. Everything combined was giving Yuuri a very comforting sense of home.

Victor was gesturing around the kitchen at the various parts of their meal in progress, explaining that he had been practicing how to make katsudon and he was pretty sure he was getting good at it now.

Yuuri felt a wave of affection for the man before him as he watched Victor carefully lower a breaded pork fillet into the hot oil. Yuuri hadn’t been sure what Victor was planning, what his motivation for bringing Yuuri all the way to Russia might be, but as he watched Victor carefully timing the pork fillet, eyes narrowed in concentration, he realised that he didn’t care. So what if Victor had an ulterior motive? He had found out and taught himself how to make Yuuri’s favourite food. He doubted he meant him harm.

He offered to assist, and Victor cheerfully informed him he could grab them both a drink. Not wanting to disappoint his host, Yuuri poured two glasses of the vodka already on the breakfast bar, Victor’s slightly more generous than his own.

Victor lifted the golden pork from the oil and set it to rest while assembling the rest of the bowls. He only had to tell Makkachin once not to touch anything. With only one look of longing towards the pork cutlet, she turned and loped towards her own food bowl. Within minutes Victor was placing a steaming bowl in front of Yuuri and taking a seat next to him. He raised his glass and Yuuri blinked at it for a second, then cottoned on that it was a toast. He raised his own drink, barely sipped at, and clinked it together with Victor’s half-drunk glass.

“To Yuuri in Russia,” Victor proposed, and Yuuri smiled at him.

“To Victor’s katsudon,” Yuuri replied, and clinked his glass against Victor’s again before he had time to react.

They both drank, Yuuri quite a bit more deeply than he had intended, although not nearly as deep as Victor who drained his glass.

Yuuri immediately refilled his glass in a habit formed from spending too much time with his ballet teacher, who drank like a fish. Victor laughed, a relaxed and utterly beautiful sound, before urging Yuuri to eat.

They ate mostly in silence, although Yuuri paused several time to tell Victor how delicious it was. Victor hadn’t been wrong about the view. In the distance, the setting sun illuminated the palace rooftop with a fiery light, and as the last of the sunset faded into velvet black, the lights of the city burst into life. 

Yuuri had felt the first few sips of his vodka burn all the way from his throat to his stomach, but coupled with the food it was going down much easier. He had drained his first glass and was starting on his second by the time they had finished their meal.

Leading him to the living area, Victor urged Yuuri to make himself at home, and Yuuri decided that third-vodka Victor might be more forthcoming with some answers.

“Victor,” Yuuri began, looking over at the grey haired enigma. Victor was watching him closely, and with a jolt Yuuri realised that Victor was sitting exactly where he had been sitting when he had taken those photos only days ago.

He tried to begin again.

“Why am I here?”

Victor regarded him for a moment before turning his gaze to the remaining vodka in his glass. With a heavy sigh, he drained the glass in one go. Yuuri waited as Victor seemed to gather his thoughts. The hand that held his empty glass was pressed against his lips.

“You’re here,” Victor began, leaning forward and placing the glass on the coffee table between them, “Because I want you to be.” His eyes pierced Yuuri and for a moment he looked almost predatory.

“And I always get what I want.”

A jolt shot through Yuuri. As quickly as the moment had come it had gone. Victor was once again smiling, asking if he wanted anything, the perfect host. But Yuuri remembered the look he had given him. Far from cold, the narrow eyes that had fixed him in place had been dark and smouldering. Yuuri was fast realising that a lifetime of hero-worshipping had taught him nothing about the man himself. Victor in real life was a puzzle that Yuuri desperately wanted to put together, no matter what the finished picture looked like. He wanted Victor to look at him like that again.

Yuuri realised that the butterflies in his stomach he had been feeling since the airport might not be nerves after all. As he gazed across the room at his childhood idol in the flesh, it occurred to him that what he was feeling might be good old-fashioned lust.

He was startled from these thoughts as Makkachin wandered over to Victor, jumping up on to the sofa with him and settling down at the end. Yuuri hadn’t known what to say in response to Victor’s declaration, but the silence that had fallen didn’t feel uncomfortable. He watched Victor with Makkachin and felt a wave of nostalgia for Vicchan. He had missed the soothing presence of a pet these last 5 years in Detroit. 

Feeling brave, Yuuri got up and went over to Makkachin, sitting back on his heels and reaching out to stroke her soft fur. He spoke to her softly in English, telling her how beautiful she was and that she reminded him of his own poodle. Victor was still reclined, but he turned to face Yuuri as he questioned him.

“You have a poodle, too?”

Yuuri gulped and nodded once, blinking back the tears that suddenly welled up.

“Yeah, I had a poodle for years. He…” Yuuri trailed off for a moment, and deliberately looked away as he got his emotions under control.

“He passed away last year.”

A rustle indicated Victor had sat up, and Yuuri felt a warm hand rest on his shoulder.

“I’m sorry Yuuri, that must have been terrible.”

He nodded, and forced himself to smile as he turned to face Victor.

His smile faltered when he saw how close Victor was, and he felt his words die on his lips. Victor’s gaze was intense, and Yuuri felt like he was drowning in it and at the same time being brought back to life. He struggled to think of something intelligent to say.

“It’s, uh, it’s getting late,” _Yes Yuuri_ , he mentally berated himself _. Very intelligent_.

“We should go to bed.”

Yuuri froze as Victor’s words reached him, and he slowly felt his face start to heat up with a blush.

Victor gazed evenly back at him, apparently unaware of the double meaning of his words. Yuuri quickly shot to his feet, startling Makkachin and nearly spilling the contents of his glass.

“Yes! I mean-“ Yuuri put his unfinished drink down on the coffee table

“I should go to bed! Goodnight!” Yuuri hurried towards the door, pausing and looking back over his shoulder. Victor was watching him with amusement.

Taking a deep breath, Yuuri turned to face Victor once more.

“Thankyou Victor. For dinner and,” he ran his hand absently through his hair, “and everything.” He finished lamely. Victor’s easy smile melted his heart.

“You’re welcome Yuuri. Goodnight.”

Yuuri bowed quickly and fled from the room, dashing across the hall and into his apartment without looking back.

Victor watched him go before turning to Makkachin and speaking to her in Russian.

“So that was Papa’s new boyfriend, Makkachin. What did you think?” He scratched her behind the ears and continued his monologue.

“No, he doesn’t realise it yet, but he is.”   

In his own room across the hall Yuuri slept deeply, wrapped in the soft blankets that covered his bed. He dreamt that Victor was watching him through lust-darkened eyes again. It made him feel hot all over. Victor’s gaze was piercing; it was impossible to look away from. The stormy blue was just a ring of colour around wide blown pupils as he eyed Yuuri. A jolt a desire ran through him, causing his half-hard cock to twitch against the smooth skin of his thigh.

Desire and heat were consuming him, and as he clawed his way to the surface of his dream, he reflected that drinking half a bottle of vodka after a long and dehydrating flight was probably not one of his more sensible ideas. Blinking his eyes in the gloom, the room swam murkily into vision. A soft click drew his attention, but without his glasses he had no hope of locating the source of the sound. Now more or less awake, the insistent need to relieve the pressure building in his lower half caused him to sit up. Reaching for his phone, he noted it was 5:30am and that he might as well get up for the day.

Rolling out from under the covers, he stood and let the blankets fall back to the bed. He felt his cock once again twitch as the soft fabric brushed against him. He stared down at his body, his sleep-clouded mind trying to remember going to be the night before. He didn’t usually sleep naked, but then again, he didn’t usually go to bed half-drunk in Russia either. He shrugged and padded over to the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. The tile floor was cold to the touch, but he quickly climbed into the shower and the warm cascade soon took the chill from the room.

Palms flat on the smooth tiles and head bowed, Yuuri let the water hit his back and drip down his thighs. He watched the water pooling at his feet, swirling away down the drain. The warmth of the water was soaking into him and he closed his eyes, remembering how yesterday Victor had stood so close behind him, recreating the image in his mind and adding details. Victor pressing up against him, his arms coming around he hold Yuuri to him tightly. Yuuri straighten up, the water drenching his hair and falling in rivulets that wound around his muscles and dripped down to his fully erect cock.

Eyes still closed, Yuuri was lost in his fantasy as his memories of Real Victor from yesterday and Dream Victor from last night melded and merged. He leant forward again, shifting his weight as he rested his head against his left forearm. Reaching down with his right hand gave the shaft a squeeze, then slowly stroked. His mouth fell open in a soft gasp as the water pounded against his lower back. He bit his lip to stifle a moan as his imagination supplied image after image of Victor pleasuring him as he stroked himself. It didn’t take long for his ministrations to send him over the edge. His strokes became less measured, more frantic as he approached his limit until with a soft cry he spilled his seed. Leaning back into the stream he let the pressure of the water wash away the evidence. For the first time since his arrival yesterday he felt peaceful and relaxed. He reached for the shower gel to wash when the sound of movement beyond the door caused his newly relaxed body to tense again.

“Good morning Yuuri!” Victor’s voice called cheerfully though the door.

“I came to get you up but I see you’re already awake!” His voice was muffled through the door as Yuuri stood frozen in fear staring at it. He hadn’t locked the door.

“Yes, I’m awake!” He shouted over the sound of the shower, adding “I won’t be long!”

“Take your time! Come over for breakfast when you’re ready.”

He waited with baited breath for the sound of retreating footsteps. When he heard the bedroom doors close he relaxed, breathing a sigh of relief and dispensing a blob of shower gel into his palm. His first morning in Russia and already he’d nearly been caught wanking in the shower. He shook his head as he started to wash and thought to himself: _It’s going to be a long season._

 

The drive to the rink was filled with Victor’s bright babbling about the plans he had for training now that Yuuri was here. Yuuri listened silently, his eyes turned towards the buildings flying past as Victor outlined the intense program he had crafted to get Yuuri back into peak physical form. Sinking into the soft upholstery of the seat, Yuuri mentally face palmed. Of course Victor had noticed he’d got a bit soft. It was only to be expected after all. It wasn’t like he’d planned on competing again. He sat up straighter as the thought occurred to him. That was right: he had thought his skating career was over. But now…

He stole a glance over at Victor, who was gesturing as he animatedly spoke of how Yuuri was the most promising skater he’d seen in a long time and he couldn’t wait to get him in the rink.

Yuuri felt his chest grow tight and tears prick at his eyes. He couldn’t believe he had almost let this feeling go. What had he been thinking? He _loved_ skating. Thank god Victor had decided to pull him out of this slump he’d sunk himself into.

Soon they arrived and with a feeling of determination Yuuri grabbed his bag and followed Victor towards the locker rooms. Now that he was here, he was determined to prove himself. He was going to work harder than he’d ever worked before this year.

He greeted Coach Yakov and was given his first assignment officially: loose the weight and report back in 5 days.

Yuuri cringed at the harsh verdict but really he had expected something like this. Victor had laughed and got him set up in the gym. He had been popping in constantly to check on him all morning. By lunchtime Victor wandered in for the umpteenth time, announced it was time for a break and took Yuuri to the cafeteria. Yuuri lined up with Victor, sliding a damp tray on the rail in front of him and eyeing the strange looking cuisine with caution. He was actually relieved when Victor laid down some dieting rules that forbid anything more complicated than a salad. At least he could recognise lettuce.

They were joined at the long table by several other skaters, including Unfriendly Yuri. The other skaters all spoke to Victor in Russian. Yuuri wasn’t bothered; they were in Russia after all. He could tell that they weren’t talking about him, or at least not saying anything bad anyway. The tone was light and friendly. Mila came and sat down next to Yuuri and began to ask him in her beautifully accented English about Japan. She had been to Tokyo and Fukuoka for competitions and longed to be able to explore more. Mila was just explaining that she had learnt a little Japanese, and was carefully pronouncing her practiced self-intro when Yuuri looked up and caught Victor watching him.

Yuuri quickly averted his eyes, focusing again on Mila and praising her short speech, but from the corner of his eye he could see that Victor was still watching them.

The rest of the day flew by in a blur. Yuuri was mostly left to his own devices; Victor visited much less as Yakov was fed up with his star constantly disappearing every time he turned his back and made the entire team his spies to keep Victor on the ice. Yuuri didn’t mind being left alone; it gave him time to think as he worked out. He did want to get outside if possible though. He made a mental note to ask Victor about a safe place to jog outside.

Yuuri wasn’t sure if the training was tougher than Detroit, or if he was just seriously out of shape, but he _ached_. By the late afternoon he was exhausted and had all but crawled into Victor’s car to go home. The hot showers in the gym had washed him clean but he knew that tonight he needed to soak in the bath or tomorrow he would be a cripple. Victor didn’t pester him on the drive home. He cast a few worried glances at the younger skater but refrained from commenting. It wasn’t until they were in the elevator that Victor started to question him about his day.

Even though it had been physically gruelling, Yuuri could honestly tell him he was happy to be here. He was in a strange place where he didn’t speak the language, he didn’t know why Victor had brought him here but even so, his heart felt lighter than it had in years. He had been about to give up skating and he would forever be grateful to Victor for snapping him out of his funk.

He tried to put some of his less-complicated feelings into words, and the warm smile Victor gave him in return caused him to smile back, his first genuinely happy smile since he arrived. Victor insisted that Yuuri come back to his apartment to relax and Yuuri accepted, pleased to be able to spend more time with his idol.

Makkachin greeted them at the door, wildly jumping first on Victor then Yuuri and demanding attention. Victor laughed, assured her that he would take her for a run soon, and ushered Yuuri into the living room. Yuuri collapsed facedown on the sofa, but turned his face towards Victor to ask.

“Do you take Makkachin out for walks?”

Victor nodded, “Yes, usually every morning and afternoon. You’re welcome to join us Yuuri.”

Yuuri smiled and rolled over on the sofa, his head resting against the arm rest and his feet dangling in the air. Every muscle protested against movement.

“Thanks, I think I will in the future.” He grimaced as he pointed and flexed his toes. “Just not today.”

“I’m sorry I can’t make you _katsudon_ again tonight Yuuri,” Victor apologized as he poured two sparkling waters. He held one out to Yuuri. Makkachin had wandered over to Yuuri and her head was in his lap as he was scratched her behind her ears absently.

Sitting up a bit to accept the cool glass Yuuri replied, “That’s okay, I realised it wouldn’t be on the diet.” He smiled ruefully as he sipped the water. There was a twist of lemon in it and the flavour was refreshing.

“When I’m focused on a goal I can be strong willed. I’ll look forward to _katsudon_ again in the future.”

Victor settled on the end of the sofa, and Yuuri self-consciously tried to make himself smaller, pulling his body away from Victor to avoid accidently brushing against him. Victor didn’t seem to notice, and as he spoke his arm came down to rest against Yuuri’s leg.

“I’d like to cook for you again. Maybe we can celebrate the end of your first week here?”

Yuuri was frozen in place, not sure if Victor knew he was touching his leg or not. He didn’t want to move in case Victor then realised and moved his arm away.  He couldn’t believe he was this worked up about such a casual touch. He wasn’t even touching his skin; both his leg and Victor’s arm were covered by clothing. He shook his head sharply and realised that Victor was still waiting for a reply.

What had he said again? Oh yeah,

“Yes, that’d be great.” He said lamely, wishing he had even one tenth of Victor’s confidence. Makkachin chose that moment to scramble up onto the sofa with them, and in the ensuing scuffle Victor moved his arm away. Yuuri felt equally relieved and devastated but sat up properly, Makkachin now a physical barrier between himself and Victor. It had been an eventful day, and he felt exhausted. After draining the last of his water he announced that he might head to bed. Victor agreed and said he would walk him out. Yuuri’s protest fell on deaf ears as Victor climbed gracefully to his feet. The contrast in their movements was not lost on Yuuri. After his long day at the gym was moving like a marionette.

Victor followed him out the door and across the hall, and the warmth from his hand resting against the small of his back was causing Yuuri to have trouble breathing.

 “Sleep well, Yuuri,” Victor leaned closer to whisper to him, his breath ghosting against Yuuri’s cheek.

“Remember, I’m just across the hall if you need anything.”

Yuuri gulped, said goodnight and fled into his apartment, shutting Victor out before he did something stupid like ask him in. Leaning against the closed door, he caught his breath, willing his heartbeat to slow to a more reasonable pace. A low chuckle from the other side of the door caused his heartrate to skyrocket again, and with a whimper he dashed for the bedroom. Pulling his clothes off was a mission: everything hurt. He ran a hot bath and poured in some salts he found in the cupboard. As the bathroom filled with sweet-scented steam, he reflected on the lengths which Victor had gone to setting up this place for him. The bath filled quickly and he gratefully lowered his aching limbs into the water, setting a timer on his phone so he didn’t soak too long.

He nearly fell asleep, the water was so relaxing. The warmth sunk into his abused muscles, soothing away the long day. The insistent beeping from is phone brought him back to life and he reluctantly climbed from the bath, drying off quickly and moving to the bedroom to stretch. The hot water and salts had done their job; he could move much more freely. He only stretched a little, ready to sleep now that every movement wasn’t torture, but still wanting to take any advantage to regain his former flexibility. With a grateful sigh he crawled under the covers, and within minutes he was deeply asleep.


	2. Here comes the other shoe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri versus Yuri! Now that Yuuri is settling in to his new home rink, what new challenges await him?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the lovely comments, every single one makes my heart sing! And sorry for the delay, real life took over this last week. I have taken the liberty to assume Makkachin's gender, because I haven't noticed it explicitly stated anywhere. If I'm wrong let me know and I'll change it. And the Russian expressions are sourced online. I speak zero Russian. Any corrections or advice is welcome!

Yuuri had been surprised at how quickly he fell into a comfortable routine in his new home. Every morning he would wake to the sound of Victor knocking on his door and inviting him over for breakfast. They jogged with Makkachin before heading over to the rink and parting for the rest of the morning: Yuuri to the gym and Victor to the ice. Yuuri had even started to make friends within the group of skaters. Mila and her friend Julia would come and sit with him in the cafeteria. Once when Still Unfriendly Yuri had been teasing him an older skater had come over and whacked him on the head. Mila giggled and told Yuuri that had been Georgi. Yuuri had offered him a grateful smile and been confused by the man’s stoic expression, but Mila explained he wasn’t usually so down “He’s just going through something at the moment.” she had said. The only other skater Yuuri really interacted with was Ivor, a 17 year old skater who was focused on a comeback after puberty messed with his previous year.

Evenings were even more relaxed than the mornings. After leaving the rink Victor and Yuuri would relax in Victor’s apartment and talk about their day and take Makkachin for another run around the block. There was a park at the top of a nearby hill that was the perfect spot to watch the sun disappear behind the city skyline. On the way home they’d stop at a little hole-in-the-wall takeaway that had the most amazing Kasha. The familiar flavour of buckwheat was not something Yuuri had expected to find in Russia. He’d started to worry about food an hour into his second flight when he’d been given a tray for lunch and the only thing familiar on it was the bread roll. But Kasha was delicious and he had been having it daily with different things on the side. He was glad the diet plan Victor had made for him was edible. He was pretty sure he’d eat anything Victor put in front of him but he appreciated actually liking the food.

By the time he woke on the morning of day Five, Yuuri felt like he’d been here all his life. He knew every corner of the gym and every face he passed he recognised. The weight had been melting off with all his hard work and the thought of finally getting permission to skate was causing him to hum cheerfully as he showered and got dressed. It was still early but he decided to head over to Victor’s anyway. It might be too early to take Makkachin for a jog but he could still get some quality time with the poodle. Spending time with Makkachin had been slowly healing the hole left in his heart by the absence of Vicchan, and Yuuri was relishing every minute of it.

He pressed his ear to Victor’s door. He couldn’t hear any obvious signs of Victor being up so he knocked gently a few times. A soft _thump_ and the sound of nails clicking on the floor let him know Makkachin was awake at least. Hearing her begin to whine, he pressed his hands against the door to lean close and whisper calming platitudes to her, but to his surprise the door quietly opened under his weight. After hesitating for a moment, he let himself into Victor’s apartment. He gave Makkachin a pat on the head as he padded softly over to the sofa, sinking into the plush cushions and patting his leg to call Makkachin over. She galloped after him enthusiastically, jumping onto the sofa and climbing into his lap.

Yuuri relaxed, leaning over Makkachin and burying his face in her fluffy fur as she settled back to sleep on his lap. He didn’t hear the bedroom door open, nor see a messy-haired Victor watching him from the shadows. Not wanting to disturb them, Victor silently observed for another minute before softly shutting his door. The sound of the shower startled Yuuri and he instinctively looked over at the closed bedroom door.

“Sounds like your Papa is awake.” He told Makkachin in Japanese, giving her an affectionate pat on the head. “Nearly time for a walk.” Makkachin jumped down and started bouncing around in excitement. Yuuri was amazed how quickly Makkachin seemed to have learnt to recognise the word “sampo” for “walk”. She’d first reacted to it yesterday, much to Yuuri’s amusement.

Victor soon appeared with his hair still damp and only his lower half dressed.

“You’re up early today Yuuri.” His velvet voice sent a shivery feeling down Yuuri’s spine, and he gulped before turning to face Victor.

“Yes, I hope you don’t mind…” Yuuri trailed off, suddenly horrified that he had just barged in without being invited, but Victor was smiling as he towel-dried his hair.

“Of course I don’t mind, what’s mine is yours,” Victor’s face disappeared behind the towel for a moment and Yuuri watched as tiny droplets of water beaded and trailed over Victor’s very naked upper body. He felt his face flush and quickly dropped his gaze.

“I’ll just grab a shirt and we can go if you like.” Victor disappeared back into the bedroom and Yuuri dashed to the kitchen, grabbing a glass and gulping some water as he willed his blood to behave and stop rushing all over the place. Makkachin was unperturbed by their interactions; she had padded over to the door and was waiting patiently for someone to attach her lead so they could go.

Yuuri felt residual awkwardness the entire elevator ride to the ground floor, but as they started their jog in the crisp morning air his mood quickly lifted. Makkachin ran ahead of them like usual, bounding up to trees and pulling at her lead before stopping abruptly and causing them to slow down and stop, urging her to keep up with them. They usually exchanged a few words, plans for the day and so forth, and after a few minutes Victor commented on Yuuri’s weight loss.

“I think Yakov will approve you joining us in the rink today.” Yuuri beamed with pleasure.

“I hope he does. I can’t wait to skate again.” Yuuri felt his heart grow lighter as Victor continued to observe that Yuuri had worked so hard and done so well since his arrival.

“The diet rules can continue but I’m confident Yakov will want you on the ice from now on. It’s time to show him what you can do.”

They deposited a happily worn-out Makkachin back in Victor’s apartment and grabbed their sports bags. Yuuri lovingly packed his skates into his bag before filling his water bottle and sliding it into a side pocket. Finally, he was going to skate again. He was going to skate on the same ice as Victor.

At the rink, he stood nervously before Yakov. They were the first ones to arrive, and every sound they made echoed in the large and empty arena.

Yakov had given him a once over, lifting first one arm and squeezing his bicep, then the other. Walking around him he asked him to flex and point his right foot, then his left. Yuuri complied with every order as he was inspected, feeling a strange sense of disembodiment steal over him. It was almost like he was watching the exchange happen to another person. Victor stood off to the side, pretending to stretch but really watching Yuuri closely.

It seemed like the inspection took hours but after just a minute Yakov pronounced him ready and told him to warm up and be on the ice in 10 minutes.

“I’ve seen your footwork. Impressive. Today I want to see you jump.”

Yuuri gaped at him for a moment, but Yakov had turned away at the entrance of a few older skaters. Yuuri floated over to where Victor stood, still sunk into a lunge but clearly not putting any effort into the stretch.

“I get to skate.” He mumbled, then as Victor’s grin started to infect him, he began to smile and said again, “I get to skate!”

“Congratulations, Yuuri!” Victor stood and clapped him on the shoulder.

“I knew you could pull it off.”

Yuuri began his warm up, and was so excited he forgot to blush when Victor helped him stretch.

They sat down on opposite ends of the same bench to pull their skates on, and Yuuri was so happy he almost pulled his left skate onto his right foot. Fortunately Victor was lacing his own boots and didn’t appear to notice.

Yuuri quickly tightened the laces with shaking hands, and soon he was flying on the ice. The thrill of having the wind in his hair again was bliss. There was no sound except for his blades against the ice. He had missed this.

The sound of a second pair of blades approached, and Yuuri was momentarily speechless as Victor fell into step with him effortlessly. Instantly he was reminded of the last time they had skated together.

Last year. The disastrous Grand Prix. They had been in the same group and had warmed up on the ice together, although Yuuri knew that Victor hadn’t even looked at him then. Why would he? He was a nobody, nothing compared to Victor. He remembered how all during his warmup he had watched Victor skate. Victor had been beautiful, his practice jumps received by the crowds like they were the real deal. He had smiled and waved at everyone. Celestino had been so frustrated with Yuuri: desperately trying to get Yuuri to be even half as relaxed as his idol was. He had trailed behind him on the ice, watching him like always, and feeling the deepest disappointment in himself.

He had worked so hard to get there, to the place where he could finally skate on the same ice as Victor, and he’d still felt as distant from him as he had while watching him on TV. But this time it was different.

Yuuri smiled hesitantly, and Victor grinned back at him. As Yuuri’s introspection slowed him down, Victor had matched his speed and glided easily beside him. He felt happiness bloom inside his chest as he realised that his dream truly was coming true. This was what he wanted. He was truly skating on the same ice as Victor.

The moment was interrupted by Yakov calling them over. He wanted a run-down of every jump on Yuuri’s roster. Victor gave him an encouraging squeeze on the shoulder before sailing off to the far side of the rink to practice by himself. Yuuri fixed Yakov with a look of determination and started running through his roster, starting with his easiest jumps and working up to the hard ones. Yakov watched impassively at first, but soon a look of astonishment started to dawn on his face.

Yuuri had been running through jumps for almost 5 minutes straight and wasn’t even out of breath, and Yakov was starting to realise what Victor had seen in him. He remembered the boy from last year’s Grand Prix. As a coach he was always appraising other skaters, and he had watched Yuuri mess up jump after jump. He had admired his footwork, so clean and neat, definitely what had carried him through to the Grand Prix, but those missed landings….

Every missed jump had concealed his true strength, perhaps his greatest weapon. He had the endurance of an ox. He had been sceptical about the viral video of Stay Close To Me. How could someone so out of shape keep up with Victor’s insane routine? Impossible! He had been sure it was edited together, but now he could see he’d been wrong.

He watched him land his last jump, a Quadruple Salchow, and skate back to him. He had stuck every landing, although he had stepped out of one or two. There was only a light sheen of sweat on his forehead and his breathing was deep and even. He must be some kind of monster! Yakov kept a straight face as he nodded his approval. With his agility, his grace and his endurance, Yuuri Katsuki was no doubt a top contender for the Grand Prix. He wondered what had caused the skater’s problems last year. He was too old for puberty to be the issue. Maybe something in his personal life? He glanced over at Georgi briefly and frowned. Maybe Yuuri had a bad breakup last year. In any case, he seemed in fine form now. He had landed everything and had an impressive range. His Triple Axel was definitely his top move; everything about his jump had been exquisite. He decided to send him off to skate with Victor for the morning while he decided what to do about his training program. There was also the matter of choreography. He frowned again as he recalled.

Victor had made himself very plain. He had announced that he had brought Yuuri Katsuki here to train with him that he, Victor, would be choreographing his routines. Yakov waved Yuuri off in his abrupt English, informing him he had met his expectations and he was to study under Victor for now. He watched the young skater beam with pride as he skated off towards his troublesome star.

Yakov turned as the younger skaters started pouring into the rink and barked a few orders at them to start their warmups. He turned back in time to watch as Victor greeted Yuuri, grabbing him by the hand and spinning him. The cat-like ease with which Yuuri balanced himself, turning the momentum into a twizzle before easily launching into a triple toe was exciting to watch. Did he ever run out of energy? He had so much potential.

“Yakov says I’m to practice with you this morning!” Yuuri called over to Victor as he skated down the rink. Victor had landed smoothly from a jump and glided backwards for a moment before spinning to a stop. Skating towards Yuuri, he reached out and grabbed his hand, pulling Yuuri towards him but at the last minute flinging him into a spin. He watched as Yuuri effortlessly spun in a dead straight line, lifting out of the twizzle with a neat triple toe before gliding to a stop.

“You’re too good, Yuuri. Yakov is going to replace me with you.” Victor smiled as Yuuri blushed at the praise.

“No one could ever replace you Victor.” He said, brushing self-consciously at his lower arm. Victor noticed it was the wrist he had touched.

“Has Yakov decided what to do with you yet?” Victor asked, leaning against the barrier and letting his eyes roam over the far end of the rink. Nearly everyone had arrived and was crowding the other end.

“Not sure. I hadn’t even thought about skating myself this year. I don’t know what to do about routines or a theme.” His voice trailed off as he glided towards Victor. He came to a halt a metre from him, lost in thought.

“Don’t worry about your routines Yuuri. I’m going to write them for you.”

It took a moment for the meaning to sink in, and when it did Yuuri’s eyes went wide.

“You- what?” His outburst caused everyone to stop and look over at them, and he continued in a quieter voice.

“ _You’re_ going to choreograph my routines?” he couldn’t believe it, but Victor was nodding happily.

“You can’t imagine how it felt Yuuri, to see you skating my routine like you were born to do it. No one else here could keep up with me.”

It began to dawn on him that this must be the reason Victor had dragged him halfway across the world. _Of course_. He was a rival, a challenge for Victor. Victor wasn’t attracted to him the way he was to Victor. He felt his face grow hot for the second time that morning, but Victor didn’t seem to notice. Despite the crushing feeling that had settled in his chest, Yuuri decided that he would take whatever Victor wanted to offer him. If he wanted to be rink mates and friendly rivals, then that’s exactly what Yuuri would be.

They spent the morning going over the choreography Victor had been working on. Set to the music “On Love: Eros”, it was an incredibly sexy piece of skating. Even without the accompanying music, Victor’s graceful form drew views from the other skaters as he showed off some of the key components. Yuuri watched, both enthralled by Victor and at the same time terrified because _how could I possibly skate that?_

By that afternoon, Yakov had called them over to officially give his blessing for Victor to choreograph Yuuri’s routines. At this announcement, Angry Yuri exploded in rapid-fire Russian directed at Victor, who smiled and laughed in his offhand way. Yuuri looked between the tiny ball of blond fury and his new mentor with bewilderment, and Mila swooped in to kindly explain the gist of the argument.

Apparently Victor had promised Indignant Yuri that if he won the Junior Grand Prix, Victor would choreograph a routine for his senior debut. And Victor had completely forgotten about it. But if Shouting Yuri was anything to go by, Victor wouldn’t be getting away with it. Yuuri watched the exchange, not understanding the words but suddenly feeling a sense of overwhelming pressure.

Victor had said he would choreograph Yuuri’s routines, but what about his own? And now Younger Yuri... Mila noticed the worried look on Yuuri’s face and was quick to reassure him, thinking he was upset about the shouting.

“Don’t mind those two, honestly. They’re always like that.” She shrugged in a “ _Geniuses, amiright?”_ kind of way, and Yuuri forced a smile for her benefit. He watched as Victor pulled Blond Yuri towards him, getting him in a headlock and messing up his hair while the younger skater swore and fought to free himself. Yuuri was already determined to do well this year, but now he felt the added pressure of not letting Victor down. He would do everything in his power to make the burden Victor had taken on himself lighter. To choreograph not just Yuuri’s routines, but one for Irate Yuri as well, all on top of his own routines…

Red-faced Yuri was glaring at him, and he suddenly realised they’d switched from Russian to English to include him.

“We’re going to have a little competition Yuuri!” Victor looked positively delighted as he made his announcement.

“Yuuri versus Yuri! I’ll make a Short Program for you to present in one week. Whoever wins gets a Free Skate choreographed by me!”

This declaration had calmed down the other Yuri considerably. He was glaring up at Yuuri with an expression of superiority that gave the impression he thought Yuuri wouldn’t be a challenge to beat.

 _“He’s totally underestimating me,”_ Yuuri thought to himself, and a small smile played on his lips. He might not be up on Victor’s level, but there was no way he was going to back down from the challenge being issued by this angry kitten.

Victor noticed Yuuri’s look and smiled. There was no way Yuuri was going to lose. Victor had seen that look before. He caught Yuuri’s eye and winked at him, skating off before Yuuri could manage a response.

Yuuri watched him go, ignoring the babble as it resumed around him. Lost in thought, it took a moment for Yuuri to realise Mila was talking to him again. Yakov had asked her to help Yuuri work on his landings and she was asking him where he was having trouble.

He smiled at her gratefully, and they started to run through the jumps they had in common. He could see why Yakov had put him with her: Mila could land everything he struggled with. He tried to focus on learning from her examples but he had to admit it was hard to stay focused. He cast a glance at the far side of the rink where Victor was given a wide berth. Yakov had insisted that everyone, (“Yes, I said everyone Yuri be quiet!”) left Victor alone so he could concentrate on choreographing in peace. While Yuuri wouldn’t dream of interrupting Victor, he stole many looks during the afternoon.

Victor had a notepad open on the barrier which he would occasionally skate over and scribble in. Yuuri caught glimpses of the components as he stole glances in Victor’s direction whenever Mila wasn’t looking. He could tell the different routines apart from one another; he already knew the style of Eros. Interspersed were elements that didn’t match either Eros or each other. One was breathtakingly beautiful, and Victor looked like an angel skating it. Yuuri could see elements of devotion in it. One move that Yuuri particularly liked was when Victor would skate backwards, hands pressed together and raised like he was praying with his face tipped up to the heavens. The third routine was almost the opposite. Victor skated faster than he did in Eros, and the moves were more closed and defensive. He would have to wait to see more of the routine in order to follow the story it would tell.

By the day’s end, despite how hard he had been working he really didn’t want to leave the ice. It had felt so good to be back out on the rink that he had barely noticed the time passing and was surprised when Yakov called them all in. To Yuuri’s intense embarrassment, Yakov made a point of congratulating him on joining them officially, and he removed his glasses to clean them with his jacket to avoid meeting anyone’s eyes. They filed out of the arena to remove their skates, and Yuri turned back just in time to see Victor standing motionless in the now empty rink, watching him.

Yuuri felt another blush rise. Even across the ice, he could feel the intensity with which Victor watched him. But in a moment it was gone. Victor smiled and raised an arm in greeting before retrieving his note pad and skating over to Yuuri.

Together they exited the rink and Victor asked Yuuri if he’d like to try the hot tub.

“It’s amazing after a day of skating, you won’t know yourself, really.” Victor gushed as they made their way to the locker rooms. Yuuri smiled to himself, thinking fondly of the onsen back home, but he couldn’t disappoint Victor; he looked so excited. Agreeing quickly, they removed their skates and hit the showers to clean up. Belatedly, while showering Yuuri realised his training gear lacked any kind of swimwear, but fortunately Victor had come prepared and offered Yuuri the tiniest pair of swimming trunks Yuuri had ever seen. Briefly towelling off, Yuuri donned the tiny pants and followed Victor to the gym. He draped his damp towel around his shoulders in an effort to feel less exposed. Victor was wearing an identical pair of tiny swimwear but was swinging his towel frivolously as he marched towards the hot tub and the amount of Victor that was visible to Yuuri _shouldn’t have been allowed_.

Mila, Julia and another girl Yuuri didn’t know were already in the hot tub, but as they entered the gym the third skater was climbing out. Clad in a skimpy bikini in bright pink, she waved to Victor as she passed them, giving him an appraising look before shouting her goodbyes to her rink mates.

Victor smiled in greeting, but was it Yuuri’s imagination or did he not seem very interested in her? Shaking himself out of his head, he told himself to stop overanalysing everything. He was here to improve his skating alongside Victor, not seduce him.

Mila brought him back to the present with a low whistle.

“Looking good, Yuuri.” She winked at him, and she and Julia giggled as Yuuri blushed.

“Stop teasing my student, Mila.” Victor playfully chastised, climbing into the tub and immediately taking up most of the room with his long legs.

“Come on, Yuuri,” he motioned for Yuuri to join them, and Yuuri hesitantly climbed up and into the swirling water.

It was deliciously warm, and he sunk neck-deep straight away in the healing water. Feeling more at ease now he was somewhat covered by the water, Yuuri let himself relax and enjoy the company. They had arranged themselves in each cover of the spa, Yuuri and Victor opposite Mila and Julia, They chose to speak in English to include him, and Julia managed to join in by saying as much as she could in English, with her friend translating the occasional Russian to keep the conversation going. Mila was hilarious, regaling them with the latest gossip from around the rink. Georgi had apparently suffered an incredibly brutal dumping recently, and that’s why he was Mr Gloom.

Victor laughed as Mila re-enacted the public break-up, enlisting Julia’s help to play the role of a heartbroken Georgi while Mila’s Anya dissed him and launched herself into the arms of another man (a very startled Yuuri).

“So that’s why he’s been so dark lately,” Victor mused when the tale came to an end.

“I did warn him; she came with a reputation. Poor Georgi.” Yuuri was gratified to see that even as they had laughed at his misfortune, they all wore identical looks of sympathy at his plight. Yuuri was glad they seemed to care about each other. It wasn’t every rink that you could get along with your rink mates. Especially in Singles skating, where everyone was essential your rival.

After another 10 minutes the girls announced they had better get out before they became waterlogged and departed, leaving Yuuri alone with Victor. In the space created by their withdrawal Yuuri suddenly felt self-conscious about how close he was sitting to Victor, and moved around to the opposite corner. Looking up, he realised this position wasn’t much better, as now he was staring directly into Victor’s face.

The silence that fell was broken first by Victor, who asked how Yuuri had gone that afternoon.

“Good. I worked on my landings with Mila.” Yuuri tried not to stare at Victor, but it was hard: he didn’t know where else to look.

“I saw you. I think you were improving by the end. You usually have impressive form but you can be shaky on your landing leg.”

Victor had moved closer as he spoke, and Yuuri froze as he felt a hand on his calf.

“You need to bend your knee more,” Victor’s hand travelled up his calf and gently bent his knee as he spoke, and Yuuri squeaked when he tried to reply.

“Yes! I mean, I know.” Yuuri hoped that Victor would assume his pink cheeks where due to the warm water.

“You’re so stiff, Yuuri.” Victor chuckled, and Yuuri felt the hand still resting on his leg rub him gently.

“Turn around.”

It was said gently, but carried the weight of a command. Slowly, Yurri spun on the spot, drifting closer to Victor as he did so and holding the edge of the hot tub for balance.

Victor’s arms gently came around his shoulders and dragged him backwards, and Yuuri found himself sitting, legs outstretched, caged between Victor’s long legs. Victor began to massage his shoulders and back gently, fingers kneading at the tense muscles until Yuuri let himself relax.

“There you go,” Victor’s voice was still gentle as he murmured words of encouragement in Yuuri’s ear. 

“You did really well today.”

This was heaven. Victor’s skilled fingers were working every knot from his back and the low voice in his ear was sending shivers up and down his spine. It wasn’t until he felt the first hot breath tickle his neck that he started to panic.

Suddenly it dawned on him just how close Victor was, and how the closeness was directly correlated to all kinds of things happening to him below the surface. They would have to get out of the hot tub soon, and wearing nothing but a scrap of lycra Victor was sure to notice.

“Jeez Yuuri, you’re all tense again. I didn’t think I was that bad at massages.” Victor teased playfully as his hands smoothed broad strokes across Yuuri’s shoulders and down his spine.

Yuuri didn’t know how to respond. He wasn’t used to this. Was Victor flirting with him? Or was he like this with everyone? With no way of measuring his current actions against his normal behaviour Yuuri was lost. And it didn’t help that his overactive imagination kept suggesting things to him like _“He hasn’t offered anyone else a massage,”_ and “ _No one’s visited him at home since you’ve arrived,”._

“Yuuri?” Victor’s hands had stilled, and with a start Yuuri realised he hadn’t responded yet. With a hasty “Sorry” he turned his head to apologise to Victor, only to freeze as he realised how close he was to Victor’s face.

The word died on his lips as their eyes met. Yuuri flushed again and immediately scooted away, his eyes darting between Victor’s lips and intense look he was giving him.

Victor didn’t respond right away, his hands held up in front of him where they had been resting on Yuuri’s shoulders.

“What’s wrong, Yuuri?” Victor asked as his expression became a mixture of confusion and concern.

“N-nothing!” Yuuri hastily replied, glancing around for inspiration. His face still felt hot and as his gaze fell on his towel he abruptly announced,

“I just – maybe I fell asleep for a moment. The heat, you know…” He trailed off uncertainly, not really sure what he was saying anymore.

“Maybe that’s enough hot-tubbing for today then,” Victor said, giving him one more look of concern before climbing out and grabbing his towel.

Yuuri breathed a sigh of relief. While Victor’s back was turned he quickly climbed out and grabbed his own towel. Fortunately his embarrassment was killing his arousal and by the time he had towel dried himself he was respectable again.

“Let’s head home, Yuuri.” The casual way Victor threw those words out didn’t match the way it caused Yuuri to feel. He was living out his fantasies and wildest dreams because for some reason Victor wanted to train with him and create his routines and on top of all that he was living with his idol.

He didn’t know what he’d even done to deserve half of what was happening to him, but he hoped fervently that his luck would hold out for a bit longer. Just one year, that’s all he asked. Just let him have this one year with Victor and then he would go back to his unglamorous and mediocre life.  

Head down as he was lost in his thoughts, he didn’t notice Victor had stopped in the doorway. He ploughed straight into him, losing his balance for a moment before strong hands gripped his upper arms and steadied him on his feet.

“Are you sure you’re alright, Yuuri? You don’t look well.”

Victor’s face was a mask of concern as Yuuri quickly insisted that he was fine.

“Sorry! I’m fine! Really.”

Victor frowned as Yuuri brushed past him, heading back to the locker room with his head ducked. He followed after him, deciding to let it go for now but at the same time resolving to keep a closer eye on the younger skater in the future. It had been a pretty intense week for anyone, never mind someone returning to a competitive training regime from a break of who knows how many months.

As he dressed, Victor thought about the last week. Despite how quickly Yuuri had settled in here, he still wasn’t opening up to him like he had assumed he would. He had only half been joking when he’d called Yuuri his boyfriend to Makkachin. He’d had his eye on Yuuri since the Grand Prix last year and although Yuuri coming over without being expressly invited he counted as a step forward, progress was slower than he’d have liked. He had been pleasantly surprised to see Yuuri cuddling with Makkachin when he first woke up this morning and he wanted to keep this momentum going. As it was, it looked like Yuuri was retreating from him again and he didn’t want to lose all the ground he’d gained so far.

Casting a look over at Yuuri as he tied the drawstring of his track pants, Victor had an idea. The best way to win him over was probably food. Yuuri had just started putting on his shirt as Victor called over to him.

“Is there anything special you want to eat to celebrate being back on the ice?” Victor picked up his own shirt, but paused, the fabric held loosely in his hand as he waited for Yuuri’s response.

Yuuri blinked at him, his glasses askew. As he had pulled his shirt over his head he’d knocked his glasses off his nose. He was now struggling to get the collar clear of his face. Victor laughed, dropping his shirt back onto his bag and closing the distance between them. He tugged the fabric down firmly before gently placing Yuuri’s glasses back on his nose.

Yuuri stared up at him dumbfounded. Victor had just said something to him, but he had completely forgotten what it was. His brain was so caught up with overanalysing everything Victor did that he had completely missed what Victor had said. The fact that he was now waiting for a reply, shirtless and staring at him was more than a little distracting.  

“Y-yes?” He decided to throw caution to the wind. When in doubt, agree. To his relief Victor laughed.

“Shall we have katsudon again then?” Victor smiled and Yuuri found himself grinning back. Twice. In one week. He didn’t deserve Victor: the man was too good.

“Definitely.” He agreed.

Deciding that they would pick up the required ingredients while walking Makkachin, they headed home in good spirits. Makkachin was overjoyed to see them, as usual, and Victor disappeared into the kitchen to start the rice cooking while Yuuri rolled around on the floor with her.

While washing the rice, Victor snuck glances at Yuuri, smiling as he watched him laugh and play with Makkachin. He had picked himself up and crawled to the sofa, collapsing against the cushions. Makkachin had immediately leapt up and was pawing at Yuuri, her soft whine seeming to indicate it wasn’t time for sleeping, it was time for a walk.

Yuuri’s arms curled around her and hugged her close. Victor, water still pouring from the tap, watched transfixed as Yuuri murmured to her in Japanese. When the water started to overflow the pot, he swore softly and shut off the tap. Quickly draining the rice and trying not to wash any more of the grains down the sink, he measured the correct amount of water back into the pot and dropped it into the rice cooker.

“Alright, ready to go!” He announced, hitting the start button on the rice cooker and looking over at the pair on the sofa. Yuuri sat up slowly, stretched and yawned. Looking over to Victor, he was surprised to see him watching him.

“Sorry!” He leapt to his feet, and Makkachin bounced away, startled by his sudden movement.

Victor shook his head at him in amazement.

“No need to be sorry, Yuuri. You’ve had an exhausting day.” Victor moved closer, reaching out to straighten Yuuri’s glasses: they had been knocked askew again.

To his great delight, Yuuri blushed deeply as he looked up at Victor with wide eyes.

Yuuri stared transfixed as Victor gazed at him with eyes dark with desire. He felt frozen in place as Victor’s gaze dropped lower, and unconsciously he licked his lips. The reaction this caused in Victor was remarkable. They were so close together Yuuri could hear the short intake of breath as Victor swayed closer to him still. Yuuri felt both petrified and exhilarated as it occurred to him that Victor might actually be about to kiss him.

Everything felt like it was going in slow-motion. Yuuri felt his eyelids close. He had tilted his face up ever so slightly, and he could hear his heartbeat pounding, drowning out the world around him. Until a strong force barrelled into him and knocked him off his feet.

“Makkachin, no!” He heard Victor call out before a heavy weight pinned him to the ground. Makkachin, growing tired of being ignored at her designated walking time, had taken matters into her own paws.

He opened his eyes just in time to see Victor looming over them, gently pulling Makkachin off him and offering a hand to pull Yuuri back to his feet.

“I suppose we’d better go then,” Yuuri laughed, and Victor’s worried expression cleared as he realised Yuuri wasn’t hurt.

Makkachin, completely oblivious to the mood she had just killed kept bouncing around their feet until Victor grabbed her lead and they filed out the door.

They kept the pace slow, heading towards their local supermarket instead of to the hill they usually climbed. Makkachin was thrilled with a change to their routine and bounded ahead of them, but Victor deliberately kept them at a walk. He knew Yuuri would never complain but the week had clearly taken a lot out of him. He was working hard every day and he deserved a break.

Yuuri offered to wait with Makkachin while Victor shopped. He felt very conspicuous loitering at the shop entrance; Makkachin was both a blessing and a curse. While she provided a neutral topic of conversation between him and the various people who stopped to pat her, he was 100% convinced that no one would be trying to engage him in conversation if he wasn’t holding a beautiful poodle.

Two girls had come up to fawn all over Makkachin, and they had quickly established that Yuuri didn’t speak any Russian. They had a few failed mime attempts before they gave each other a sort of worried look and shrugged. Now it seemed like they were trying to teach him how to say something in Russian. They kept pointing to Makkachin and saying something. It either meant “cute” or possibly “dog” going by context; Yuuri really couldn’t tell which. He asked them if they spoke English and they both shook their heads. He had just started to feel like this was all a bit too overwhelming when Victor wandered out clutching a large bag. One of the girls asked him what sounded like a question. Yuuri could only stare at her, biting his lip and shaking his head. He told them “Sorry, I don’t understand” in both Japanese and English, but when the other girl noticed Victor she squealed and pointed. Immediately they rushed over and started talking rapidly, pointing back at a bewildered looking Yuuri.

To his surprise, Victor laughed and nodded as he spoke to them. The girls looked relieved as they turned and waved to Yuuri. Yuuri waved back, very confused but trusting that Victor would explain whatever had just happened.

He was still laughing when he walked over, and Yuuri had to ask what was so funny. Victor took a moment to compose himself.

“They thought you’d stolen Makkachin!” he blurted out, stooping to pat Makkachin who was oblivious to the scene she’d caused.

“O-oh,” Yuuri thought, reanalysing the interaction and feeling the pieces fall into place. Victor’s shoulders were shaking with silent laughter and Yuuri soon felt himself smiling with him.

“No wonder they wouldn’t leave Makkachin alone. They wanted to know she was safe and not with some stranger.” He murmured, and Victor looked up at him. Staring into the store where the girls had disappeared, he didn’t notice how Victor looked at him tenderly.

Victor straightened up and readjusted his grip on the groceries.

“Well, you’re certainly not a stranger.” He said as they set off.

Yuuri fell into step with Victor as they walked back home. Maybe he should have Victor start teaching him some Russian. If something like that happened again he at least wanted to be able to say that he was a friend of Victor’s and not a dog-napper.

He expressed this wish to Victor whose face immediately lit up. And so as they walked home, Victor taught Yuuri how to say “hello”, “good morning”, “how are you”, “yes”, “no” and “thanks” which he thought might be the most immediately useful words, and promised to teach him more once he’d mastered those. Yuuri practiced them all the way back, Victor correcting his pronunciation and praising him liberally when he got it right.

As soon as they were through the door, Victor insisted that Yuuri go and rest while he made dinner. Yuuri unclipped Makkachin’s lead and hung it up inside the door while protesting that he was fine. Victor, who had already donned his silly apron, pointed with a wooden spoon to the sofa and demanded that Yuuri relax. Unable to argue with a grown man wearing a ruffled apron, he acquiesced and flopped onto the sofa again, letting Makkachin climb up with him and settling back as Victor turned on the TV.

“There’s an international channel, although its probably all boring news. Try this channel, its usually got fun game shows.” As Victor clicked over to the channel, a bright scene filled with excited and chattering people filled the screen. Yuuri took the remote Victor held out to him and felt his fingertips lightly brush against his. He found himself staring at Victor again when a laugh from the TV jolted him back to the present.

Victor was still leaning over him, gently smiling.

“Dinner won’t be long.”

Victor returned to the kitchen. The rice was done already, and he fluffed it with the wooden spoon before turning to the bag of ingredients. He felt like he’d mastered katsudon, even though he’d only made it a handful of times now. He stole glances as he chopped and prepped and cooked; Yuuri was watching the game show, transfixed. Lying back on the sofa with his feet pointing towards the TV, Yuuri had to peer around Makkachin who had settled herself lying over his chest while he watched.

It certainly didn’t look like the most convenient way to watch TV but the scene made Victor’s heart sing.

It only took Victor 30 minutes to have two assembled bowls of katsudon on the bar. Yuuri had clicked off the TV and floated over to the bar when he heard Victor get the bowls out of the cupboard and now he watched as Victor placed one of the bowls in front of him.

“Spasibo.” Yuuri said shyly, thanking Victor with his brand new Russian vocab and blushing when Victor praised him profusely. As they ate Victor quizzed him on the rest of his vocab and added two new ones, “good night” and “see you tomorrow”. Yuuri repeated them back to him several times, and Victor watched how his eyebrows were drawn down in concentration. It was kind of adorable how seriously he took it.

No matter how much he wanted to stay with Victor, Yuuri knew he’d better turn in soon. He was feeling the toll of the past week and if he didn’t climb into bed soon he’d probably fall asleep right here in Victor’s living room. Standing and announcing that as Victor had cooked once again that he would do the dishes, he took both Victor’s and his own empty bowls to the sink. Behind him Victor began to protest and followed him into the kitchen. He was hovering so close to Yuuri that it was making him nervous again. As he rinsed the dishes they kept sliding out of his shaking fingers. Giving up before he broke something he plugged the sink and let the hot water run. He stilled as strong hands rested on his shoulders and gently began to massage.

“Yuuri, leave this to me. You should get an early night.”

Victor’s voice was low and his breath tickled Yuuri’s ear, he was so close.

“Nonsense, it’ll only take a minute.” Yuuri replied, shutting off the water and fishing for the sponge beneath the foam.

“You’re tired, aren’t you?” Victor continued to massage gently, and Yuuri felt the tension draining out of him and he gave in to the ministrations.

“Why –“ Yuuri began to ask, then cut himself off. He shook his head quickly, grabbed the sponge and started furiously cleaning the dishes.

“You can help, then.” He told Victor, who was still touching Yuuri but had ceased his massage out Yuuri’s sudden outburst.

“Okay,” He agreed easily, grabbing the tea towel and taking the first bowl from Yuuri. It didn’t take them long to finish up, and Yuuri hurriedly dried his hands, first flicking the excess water from them and gripping his sweatshirt nervously as he backed away.

“Thank you for today. S-spasibo.” Yuuri stammered as he retreated towards the door.

Victor hung back, leaning against the kitchen bench and watching Yuuri’s face change colour.

Drawing himself upright, Yuuri, one hand on the doorknob, faced Victor and told him “good night”, hoping desperately his face wasn’t as red as he felt it was.

“Sladkikh snov, Victor.”

Victor was smiling gently as he returned the greeting.

“Sladkikh snov, Yuuri.”

Escaping into his open apartment, Yuuri mentally berated himself all the way to the bedroom, and as he crawled into bed it was that gentle face of Victor’s that he saw lulling him to sleep.

Since his arrival he had seen so many more faces of Victor than he’d ever expected to see. This last one he decided was his favourite.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow this chapter was hard! I've felt conflicted about what direction I want to go in but I think I've decided now. Also, episode 10 gave me SO MUCH to work with. Bless you, Kubo-sensei. You are my Oprah.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first foray into AU land. While I've given names to the nameless side characters at the rink, fear not, they are unimportant to the plot (there's a plot?!) and I'm just naming them for convenience.  
> Stay tuned for more Yuuri in Russia \\(^ヮ^)/


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